Ode to a Nightingale
by KJ-MonkeyJunkie3
Summary: Dúlinneth wishes only to be free - free to travel, to see the world, to do as she pleases. She does not wish to be traded to make an alliance with Mirkwood. So, when the opportunity to accompany a certain company into Mordor presents itself, she takes it gladly - and finds that perhaps her lot in life is not so unpleasant as she would have believed.
1. Chapter 1

_Okay. Well, to be honest, I'm quite nervous about this one. I mean, I've had the story in my mind since I was like, seven, and I first saw Fellowship and fell in love with Middle-Earth and the idea of being an elf and Legolas and all that. It's been percolating in the back of my mind now for like, twelve years, I guess, and changing and evolving a bit every time I watch the films and I just now have decided to sort of put it down on paper (or a Word document) because I feel like I might actually have enough knowledge of the whole world of Middle-Earth and the characters and the story to kind of perhaps not totally ruin everything. And I'm very aware that it might be a bit blasphemous to add a character to the Fellowship, even in the context of fan fiction, but I'm doing it, because I haven't uploaded anything in SO LONG (Many apologies to my followers - you are gems, one and all), and because I'm rather attached to this idea because I have been toying with it for so long, and I do so hope that you all like it. _

_This is set in the movie-verse, so there will be mentions of things from the Hobbit films as well, and I may have to come back and edit some stuff once the third film comes out and we have a resolution to the storylines that aren't in the books (i.e. Tauriel and Legolas, etc.), so that I can make all of it fit together in my story. Also, the first... three, I think... parts of this take place about fifty years before the events of LOTR happen - about ten years after The Hobbit. Then you'll start to recognize stuff, because I'll go right into movie stuff but with some extra scenes so I can work my character into the canon story._

_For those who are wondering, the title comes from the John Keats poem, which is my favorite poem in the history of ever, and I think the themes of death and immortality and timelessness kind of tie in beautifully to the elves and their immortality and timelessness, although they aren't quite so immune to it as the Nightingale is. _

_I want feedback - BIG TIME - because I love the original work so much and want this to at least sort of pay homage to it, and so if the characters seem off or there's some detail that I've got wrong or you have tips that would make it better or make more sense or help it fit better into the history and feel of Middle-Earth, I want to hear it. Any questions you have, if you feel I'm not explaining certain things well enough, if there are scenes you think need to be written in more depth, let me know. Leave a review, message me, whatever. Talk to me. Communicate with me about how to make this story better. And, you know, if you like it (or don't) I want to know that, too!_

_UPDATE: I've done a lot of re-writing and adding in the recent past, so for those of you who remember a different chapter one, fear not, it'll be back, but I wanted a little more exposition before where I actually started the story originally, so here is the new, updated version of the story. Tuesday will still be new chapter day, and when we get to the chapters I've already posted, I'll probably post all three at once, just edited, so we can continue on quickly. Thanks so much for your patience and feedback! You all are awesome! _

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1. A Suitable Match

Dúlinneth Berethiel gaped, stunned, at her warden. She shook her head slowly. "I... do not understand."

Lord Elrond of Rivendell gazed at her sternly. "King Thranduil of Mirkwood has requested your hand in marriage for his son and heir. I have consented. You will travel to Mirkwood in a fortnight for your betrothal feast."

Dúlinneth's eyebrows furrowed and she remained silent for a long while before she asked, "But, why... why would King Thranduil ask for me? I am no one of note."

"You are the blood of the High Elves, the blood of Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor. Thranduil believes your bloodline makes you a suitable match for his son," Elrond's hawk-like gaze did not flicker from her face for a second.

Dúlinneth opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Twice more she did this before she finally managed, "And you have made your response without consulting me first?"

"I knew what your response would be - "

"And yet you gave your consent, knowing that I cannot give mine?" She cut him off.

"Knowing that you _will_ not give your consent - your objection is based on stubbornness, Dúlinneth. This marriage will rob you of nothing. Thranduil will one day decide to pass over the sea to Valinor, and he wishes to see his son fitted with a good wife and his line continued before that day."

Dúlinneth's shock had worn off and defiance began to grow within her. "And is his son so incapable of choosing his own bride?"

Elrond did not flinch, nor did his tone change from its authoritative - yet calm - tone. "His son has had a great many years to choose an appropriate wife of his own, and has not done so. Thranduil has chosen to make the decision for him."

"And you have done the same for me?" Dúlinneth's tone grew icy. "Perhaps Thranduillion and I have no intention of marrying - anyone. Perhaps we feel our calling is outside the bonds of marriage."

"What calling is that, Dúlinneth? What is it you believe you accomplish here?" Elrond asked sharply. "You play at swords and archery and ride your horse in the woods. I see no ambition in you, no purpose. In truth, I gave my consent to King Thranduil because I believe Mirkwood will do you as much good as you will it."

"How? By doing a thing that is unheard-of in our world? What ruler has ever consented to marry one whom they do not love or even know, even for the good of their realm?"

"It is uncommon, yes, but by that token, so are the circumstances of your mother's birth," Elrond countered, "And through her, yours."

Dúlinneth's jaw tightened. "Unusual circumstances that have negated any claim I might have had on a people or throne of my own. My mother was never acknowledged or claimed by King Gil-galad. History remembers no wife, no daughter of his. Her supposed parentage is only made known by her mother's indiscretion. And yet now I must fulfill the obligations of a title and throne I do not hold? I must act for the benefit of a people who are no longer, and who would not accept me even were they here still?"

"I ask you to claim the people of Mirkwood - though you are not one of them - and make them your own. Thranduil would give his son a throne, and as his wife, you would sit beside him as the queen you were born to be. Long have the people of Mirkwood lived under the dark enchantment and ignorance of those woods. You would bring them light, Dúlinneth. You are strong and capable, and they would love you for the fire that you carry within you - your mother's radiance and your father's dragonfire."

To this, Dúlinneth had no response.

Elrond's voice softened slightly. "I fear for you, Dúlinneth. You are wasted here. Your mother left you here that I might help to shape a future for you that befits both your heritage and your nature, and that is what I attempt to do now. I believe that being a wife, a queen, and perhaps even one day a mother will give you the purpose you so lack here in Imladris. You have much you can give, Dúlinneth. Do not squander it here, where you have no place."

Dúlinneth said nothing, but turned to go as Elrond reminded her, "Arwen awaits your company. She wishes to dine with you tonight."

Dúlinneth slipped out of the room and made her way through the winding corridors of Rivendell before she stopped and knocked on a chamber door. "Come in," a soft voice floated through the door, and Dúlinneth let herself in to her friend's chambers.

Arwen had set a small table in the front room of her chambers with four plates and cups, with dishes of leafy greens and different sorts of breads clustered in the center of the table. "Please, sit," Arwen glided out of her bedchamber with a smile. She saw Dúlinneth's distressed expression immediately and said softly, "He has told you, then."

Dúlinneth's eyes widened. "You knew?"

Arwen lowered herself into one of the chairs and took Dúlinneth's hand between hers. "My father told me, Dúlinneth, and I believe he has made the right decision." Dúlinneth opened her mouth to make a retort, but Arwen held up a hand to stop her. "I knew you would not be pleased, but if you only give it time, I know you will see the wisdom in this match."

"Arwen, I - " Dúlinneth shook her head. "No one even asked my opinion. I have no choice? I must marry this Prince, be his queen, bear his children, and ask no questions? Have no qualms? I have never even looked upon his face, Arwen." Her voice faltered, betraying her forced calm, and she sank into the chair beside her friend, covering her face with the hand that wasn't clasped between Arwen's.

Arwen's hands tightened around hers. "Legolas is well-spoken of, Dúlinneth. And if you do not believe the word of others, he will arrive here to escort you to the betrothal feast in ten days' time. You may see then the truth of the reports for yourself. He will make you a good husband. I have little doubt that you will come to love him, Sister."

"Little?" Dúlinneth closed her eyes, exasperated. "Little doubt?"

"Any doubts I have are for you," Arwen leaned forward. "I know you, Sister. You are willful, like your father, and if you are not amenable to being happy with Legolas, then how can he ever make you happy?"

Dúlinneth lifted her head from her hand, but did not speak, and Arwen pressed on, "Only attend the betrothal feast, Sister. Announce your intention to marry, and from then you will have ample time to learn more of him - and he of you - before you pledge yourselves to one another. King Thranduil cannot object to your taking time to get to know one another before you are married, surely."

An idea began to form in her mind, and Dúlinneth nodded slowly. "I... think you may be right, Sister. Thank you." She straightened and withdrew her hand from Arwen's. "All I must do for now is attend the feast."

Arwen smiled. "You have time to accustom yourself to this, Dúlinneth. Now, here. Have a drink. My brothers will join us in a short while, and we can eat."

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_So let me know what you think! PLEASE! ;D_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two of the re-write is here! Next week I should be caught up to where the story originally started, so I'll put like, three chapters up next week and we'll be back up to speed! Whoo! Apologies for not having had the story figured out all the way when I posted - Shit Tyrone, get it together! Haha. So, yeah. Hopefully you all enjoy and please please leave reviews - they're so helpful and I love them! _

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Thranduil's Son

Dúlinneth eyed the company of elves as they rode into the city. Elrond stood front and center in the welcoming party, Arwen to his left and Elladan to his right. At Elladan's right was Elrohir, and Dúlinneth stood to Elrohir's right hand. As the Mirkwood elves came to a halt before them, Elrond stepped forward. "Welcome, Legolas, son of Thranduil. It is our honor to welcome you to Imladris."

The golden-haired elf at the head of the colonnade slid gracefully to the ground and stepped forward. "Lord Elrond. We are most grateful for your hospitality." He inclined his head in a gesture of respect.

Elrond returned the gesture. "My sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and my daughter, Arwen Undómiel." His children bowed their heads as he named them, and then Elrond motioned to Dúlinneth. "And may I present Dúlinneth Berethiel, daughter of Braigon Silver-Eyes and Ereinien Ñaltanárië."

Dúlinneth stepped forward and bowed stiffly. "The hospitality of Imladris is yours, Prince Legolas. I hope your journey was not overly arduous."

Thranduil's son offered her a courteous bow. "Indeed not, My Lady. You are most gracious."

"Not at all. We are pleased to welcome you." Dúlinneth stepped back, but the prince had more to say.

"My father sends his greetings and wishes for your good fortune. He asks me to present this gift to Lady Dúlinneth, as a token of his favor, and mine." He produced a small silver box and handed it to Dúlinneth.

She pulled the lid open and was unable to suppress a gasp of admiration when she beheld the jewel glimmering within it. The rest of the elves gathered in the courtyard watched her expectantly, and she bowed her head and murmured, "You are too kind, My Lord. Please pass my most heartfelt thanks to King Thranduil."

"Surely you may thank him yourself, when we reach Mirkwood," the prince nodded. "He has heard many tales of your beauty, and sought to present you with a gift that could rival it."

Dúlinneth closed the box carefully, "When we meet, your father shall know that he has presented me with a gift that far surpasses my own beauty. I am most grateful for this generous gift, My Lord." She stepped back into line beside Elrohir.

At this, the Lord of Rivendell spoke again. "You must be weary from your journey. We have a meal ready for you, if you will follow me."

The other Mirkwood elves dismounted from their horses and handed the reigns over to the Rivendell elves who stepped forward to take them. Arwen took her father's arm and Legolas offered his to Dúlinneth, and they made their way into the city. Legolas spoke first. "Long have I heard tell of the silver eyes of your father, and now it is clear to me that you have inherited them from him. I was not fully convinced of the truth of these tales, I confess, but now that I have seen the truth in your own eyes, I will readily admit my error."

Dúlinneth blinked at him. "Surely my father's eyes are not all you have heard of me, else you would not be here now, Prince."

Legolas looked down at her, startled. "I have heard much of you, My Lady, but I confess, nothing of your abruptness."

Dúlinneth's cheeks flushed an angry red. "It is one of my many flaws, Prince of Mirkwood. Perhaps you ought to accustom yourself to it. I see little use in these games of words and manners, especially not with one whom I shall be forced to spend my life with."

The prince raised his eyebrows. "So it would seem." Both fell silent.

They were separated when they reached the great hall in which the feast was waiting, and did not find themselves in each other's company again until Lord Elrond rose at the end of the meal to pronounce a blessing on those present and retire for the evening. Dúlinneth rose to leave as well, but Prince Legolas followed her out. "Lady Dúlinneth!"

She turned to face him. "Prince Legolas?"

He came to a halt when he was within arm's reach. "I... I have heard much of the wonders of the great city of Imladris. I wonder if you might show me some of its beauties."

She hesitated, but inclined her head. "Of course. Follow me." She led him into the heart of the city, into a cool, dark chamber with frescoed paintings lining the walls. Elves, men, and orcs, armored and in battle. A Dark Lord, rising above them all. A King of men, stepping forward to face him. The Dark Lord meeting him, head on. The King, falling to the ground, his sword shattered, the Dark Lord poised to kill. The King, raising the remnant of his sword. The Dark Lord's hand struck from his body, a golden ring glinting on one finger.

They came to a halt in the center of the chamber, at a statue of a woman bent over the broken shards of a sword. The Prince stepped forward, eyes fixed on the broken fragments of blade. "The Shards of Narsil."

"The greatest moment in the history of men," Dúlinneth mused, "Immortalized here, in a city of elves."

"The greatest moment in man's history, perhaps, but one which led to man's weakest moment, and the downfall of the house of Isildur," Legolas stepped away from the sword. "Come, show me something else."

Dúlinneth nodded, biting back a scowl. "This way."

They made their way back into the city, through winding corridors and then onto a small stone pathway that signaled the beginning of a large garden. Flowers grew wild on the ground, and every bush seemed to drip with blossoms of some sort or another. A little stream wound its way through the center of the garden, and the pathway turned into a bridge to the other side of the stream. The very air in that place seemed to glow with the light of the moon and stars, and in it, the Prince's hair gleamed silver.

He gazed around, wonderingly, then his eyes came to rest on Dúlinneth. "I speak sincerely when I say this is the most beautiful place that ever I have beheld, Lady Dúlinneth." He paused, then added almost as an afterthought, "And you are the most fair."

Dúlinneth shook her head. "There is no need for you to ply me with flattery, Prince. I have no use for it."

He studied her intently. "No, I see that you do not. In truth, flattery is not a gift of mine."

"Then do not waste your effort. Our union will occur regardless of what either of us thinks of the other, I am told," Dúlinneth moved a few steps away and knelt down beside the stream, reaching out and dipping her fingers into the water.

"So it will," he agreed.

She stood, giving her hand a gentle shake to remove the excess water droplets. "Tell me, how did your father inform you of this match he had made for you?" She watched him carefully as she spoke, the moonlight creating a halo around the darkness of her head and causing her eyes to shine, brighter than silver, brighter than mithril, perhaps even brighter than the stars.

"He simply told me that he wished me to have a wife, and as I seemed unlikely to find one myself, he had taken it upon himself to arrange a suitable match for me. He told me I was to ride for Imladris in a fortnight and meet my bride there to bring her back to Mirkwood for our betrothal feast."

Dúlinneth stared at him. "That is all?" He nodded, and she asked, "And what was your reply?"

"Only that I would be proud to do my duty to the realm and to my king."

She narrowed her eyes. "You asked no questions? Made no argument?"

He shook his head. "It is not my place to question my king."

She stared at him for a brief moment, perplexed. "What kind of king can you hope to be, My Lord, if you will not even claim the right to make decisions for your own life? How can you benefit your people if you simply accept fate as it comes to you, unquestioning and docile?"

His eyes bored into hers. "How can you ever have contentment in your life, My Lady, if you cannot accept what the future brings you and learn to find the joy in whatever your fate may be?" He looked away as he continued, "When I am King, I will no longer answer to my father, and it will be my place to ask questions and make decisions. When I am King, I will do so."

"But not before?" Her eyes flashed dangerously, defiance permeating her gaze. "It seems weak, Prince of Mirkwood, to so meekly accept the choices of others for your life, regardless of your _place_."

He stiffened, but did not make any retort. Instead, he gave her a stiff bow and a chilly, "Forgive me, My Lady. I am weary from my journey. I think I will retire for the evening. Thank you for your hospitality," and retreated, following the path out of the garden and back into the city.

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_Ok I just need a sec to rant. Indulge me. But I was re-watching the special features from the extended edition of ROTK, and I hadn't picked up on this before, but guys, there are freaking Legolas and Gimli endings that didn't even make it into the extended cut. WHY?! I mean, I know what happens to them in the appendices of the books, but I sat through all those damn endings in the film and only got a miniscule amount of Orlando Bloom, and the fact that they wrote and filmed more and I don't get to see it is just... unacceptable. Also, I just want to see how they did it. That's all. I could be satisfied with reading the script, even. I'ma need to have a chat with Peter Jackson someday. Does he work like a magic genie? If I ask him to see those scenes will he grant them to me? We wants it, Preciousssss, yes we doessss... *gross sobbing* Master tricksed us! *more gross sobbing*_

_So anyways. Sorry about that. Just had to rant. Hope you enjoy the story and leave reviews, please!_


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